Cradle to Grave by Eleanor Kuhns Read Free Book Online Page B

squeeze. “I know.” Someday he hoped they would have children of their own but this was not the time to say so. Nor did he want to remind her of the infant she’d lost before he’d met her. That was a wound he could not heal. Lydia freed herself from his arms and offered him a weak smile.
    â€œThey’ll go through these in less than a week,” she said. “With both Joseph and Judah…” He nodded and reached into the copper for the heavy cloth. He snatched his hand back with a gasp. The water in the copper was still plenty hot.
    The front door opened suddenly, releasing a flood of cold air into the room. As Lydia and Rees looked up, a high treble voice piped, “What are you doing in my house?”

Chapter Five
    Rees recovered from the surprise first. “You must be Simon,” he said, inspecting the little boy on the stoop. He could not be more than seven. He wore shoes; a coat, too large and a little tattered around the sleeves, but still thick and warm; and a heavy cap. He carried a basket on one arm and a milk bucket stood on the step beside him.
    â€œCome in before you let out the heat,” Lydia said.
    Simon obeyed, stepping through the door and depositing his burden on the floor with a huff of relief. He shut the door. “What are you doing here?” he asked as he shucked his coat and hat. Simon did not resemble his three siblings at all. A shock of black hair hung over his forehead and his eyes were an odd silvery gray, completely unlike either the lighter cerulean blue of his sisters or the hazel of his brother. Rees looked at the children, the differences in their coloring arguing for different fathers, and wondered what exactly Mrs. Whitney had been engaged in.
    Simon removed his coat, revealing a very dirty one-piece suit of linsey-woolsey with ankle-length pantaloons and a row of buttons across the chest.
    â€œThey’re friends with Mouse,” came Jerusha’s sleepy voice. The burgundy mound shuddered and after a moment she wriggled herself free. “They brought some food. What do you have?”
    â€œMr. Baker sent over milk,” Simon replied. He looked around him, realizing with a start that the bucket was still outside. Rees opened the door and carried it in. “Not too much; the cows are going dry.” Simon pointed to the basket and added, “And Mrs. Baker sent over a couple a pounds of cornmeal, some corn bread, and some apples.”
    Uttering a squeak of pleasure, Jerusha hauled the basket to the table and grabbed an apple. Lydia stared into the milk bucket. She took a spoon and stirred the frozen cream on top.
    â€œIt must have been a cold walk home,” she said.
    â€œAre you apprenticed to Mr. Baker?” Rees asked, examining the child dubiously. Seven was a little young for an apprenticeship; usually the children were sent out at twelve or thirteen.
    The boy shook his head. “No. But I work for him. He has a dairy farm over the ridge there.” He flapped his hand at the front door to indicate a general direction.
    â€œDoes he pay you?” Lydia asked, trying not to sound horrified and failing.
    â€œNot in cash,” Simon said. “In food. Like the milk and such.” He sounded proud. “And he gave me these shoes and this coat.”
    â€œI’ll have to meet Mr. Baker and express my gratitude,” Rees said. Thank God some adult had been keeping an eye on these children.
    With a wail, Joseph awoke and began thrashing around. Jerusha hurried to him, her clogs clattering. As she bent to pick him up, the door to the bedroom opened and Margaret Whitney appeared in the opening. She was fair and the hair hanging in uncombed tangles down her back was just a shade darker than Jerusha’s. Her eyes were a clear blue, like her daughters’. She must have been very pretty once. But dressed in a stained and torn calico dress, her face bloated and reddened by drink, she looked far older